“Savi, you ready to go? We've gotta move!” Cooper called from the hallway.

Rachel was preparing for her own night out with a plethora of makeup and hair products blanketing the bathroom counter. Since she was a pro at navigating the bar and club scenes, I agreed to let her help me get ready. While she wrangled my hair into some sort of updo, she spouted her best tips on bar etiquette.

“Be right out; I’m trying not to look like a mini Rachel in here," I called back.

"Hey, you said I could help you get ready,” she said, popping me on the arm with her brush.

"Yeah, help me with a little makeup, not bedazzle me. You're approaching makeover territory. I can only imagine what you'll put me through when I actually agree to a date.”

Frustration knitted into her brow, and she tugged harder on my scalp.

“Okay, not gonna lie. Though it's a complete pain in the ass, I’m low-key jealous of your hair. I wish I could pull off a sea of flaming red curls. Mine’s so thin it won’t hold a curl without a full bottle of hairspray and a prayer.”

She stepped back as she pinned another section in place. “You should wear your hair up more often. It shows off those gorgeous eyes.”

“Uhm, no thanks. They draw too much attention as it is, and I don’t like it. Why can't they be normal?”

The comment on wearing my hair up flicked my mind to my scars. The hideous marks were a constant reminder of a past I knew nothing about. Hope that tonight might change that spread through my mind.

“Besides, leaving it down hides my scar. You know how much I hate it.”

Silence fell between us. Rachel appeared lost in thought, searching for a way to cheer me up and boost my confidence, no doubt.

“Are you kidding me? I would die for eyes like yours. One blue and one green. That is killer. And too much attention? Never in a million years would that be a bad thing. You bat those full lashes of yours at any guy, and he’d crumble. I promise.”

Once she saw a slight curl to my lips, she got back to work on my makeup, satisfied with her performance.

“Think about it; you can make up some kick-ass story about how you got your scar and be mysterious and enchanting with those eyes of yours.”

“Yeah, but knowing me, I'd either forget my initial lie and get caught or sound like a lunatic. Far from mysterious. And what enchantment? It’s more of a dull blue; not like the icy blue eyes everyone fawns over. Nothing spectacular, but dull, lil' ol' me. I lack the ability to be enchanting or mysterious.”

In one fluid motion, she tossed the eyeshadow palette to the counter and grabbed me, pulling me up off the toilet.

“You take it back right now, Savi. You’re a knockout. I mean, look at you.”

Rachel turned me to the mirror. I spotted a faint seriousness hidden beneath her expression before it evolved into a grin as she peered over my shoulder.

“You’ve got curves for days with those tits and this ass! Damn girl, do you understand the damage I could do if I looked like you? And to hell with icy blue eyes; you’re not a White Walker. That stormy blue-grey is plenty mysterious, trust me.”

It would be pointless to argue with her, especially about my appearance. She oozed confidence and always tried her best to help me find some in myself, but I never could.

“You do plenty of damage already," I teased. “Besides, tonight is about answers, so I don’t care what I look like."

Rachel ruffled through a bag and pulled out some lipstick. “I still can’t believe you’re going through with this. I don’t believe in witchcraft and all the hocus pocus nonsense, but given how much you’ve gone through, I don’t blame you for trying.” She sighed and applied the sheer rose color to my lips. “Perfect! All done.”

“Oh Rachel, I love it. Thank you for helping me do this; it’s way too hot right now to wear it down.”

It came as no surprise that she worked a miracle with my hair. She was always changing hers, cutting and coloring it in unique ways. At one point, she tried to convince me to dye mine black to go with my soul. But I corrected her, stating that, according to her, gingers had no soul to begin with.

“And to think you were just gonna throw all this in a bun,” Rachel scoffed. “Doesn’t this look much better? Like you care what people think? Who knows, you might seem open and approachable tonight!”

“Ha, doubt it, and I’m there for business, not pleasure.”

“Let’s go!” Cooper shouted for the fifth time.

He scowled as we exited the bathroom, holding up a motorcycle helmet and pointing to my head. "Oh, you can't be serious. How the hell are you going to wear a helmet with that hair?”

Rachel grabbed her keys from the bowl beside the door and chucked them at Cooper. “Here, take my car; Luke’s picking me up tonight, so I won’t need it.”

“I thought the guy you were going out with tonight was Alex?” I asked.

“Eh, Luke, Alex, same difference. Go have fun! But Savi, if you feel anything weird or uncomfortable, tell Coop to get you the hell out. And Coop, I’m aware it’s your girlfriend, but I’m trusting you to put Savi first and what she says goes, understood?”

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She eyeballed Cooper with a demanding gaze, and he saluted on the way out the door.

“Aster texted and said to go to the bar first because her thing is running behind. You ready for that?”

“Still no ID, dufus.” I sighed, not stopping to turn around as we walked down the stairs from the apartment.

"Oh, that reminds me. Here ya go, toots.”

Cooper pulled a fake ID out of his wallet and handed it to me. I glanced down at the freshly minted card and almost knocked him down the stairs.

“Martha Stewart! Seriously? Who’s going to believe my name is Martha Stewart? And where the hell did you get this photo of me?”

“A, I’m shocked you know who that is. B, my guy was short on time. But it’ll work, I promise. And C, I have my mysterious ways of getting the things I need, and I needed a photo of you.”

"Okay, whatever you say, Snoop."

***

One thing I still hadn't gotten used to was the varied temperatures of fall. One night would be cool and perfect, and the next you were back in the heat of summer, wishing for winter. Cooper and Rachel liked to call this kind of weather the South's false fall.

I, for one, preferred the cold. Of all the things I didn't remember about my past self, I could guarantee I had always hated summer. No doubt about it. And tonight was no exception as I longed for something cool to drink.

Much to my surprise, the ID worked without so much as a second glance at my name. So I nestled into a small booth perched in a back corner and took in the atmosphere of the bar. Dozens of strangers throwing back shots, drinking their pain, their sorrows, and their pleasures were a sight to behold.

Everyone looked so normal, so unbothered by their day-to-day lives. You'd never guess their troubles. Even the ones burying their worries were out here, living life, not holed up in self-pity. I could stand to learn a thing or two.

Loud music that made no sense to me blared through the crowded space. Cooper had introduced me to older music, like Zeppelin, Deep Purple, and CCR. The classics, as he called them, and I preferred them over whatever this noise was.

My eyes fell to Cooper, and I watched him as he conversed with the bartender. The way he angled his head, listening to the man talk, reminded me of how attentive he’d been when we'd first met. He held the same attention when he'd listened to the doctors and caseworkers talk about me.

The fact that he worked with the halfway house on a regular basis was the only reason I’d come as far as I had since those days. I owed so much to him.

One of the reasons he had chosen this bar in particular was to try to get a gig here. He worked a few nights a week at one closer to the edge of the city where we lived, but he was always willing to branch out.

Cooper might appear to be nothing more than a lazy stoner on the outside, but he was one of the hardest-working people I knew. Despite working three jobs, he never turned down odd ones for extra money.

Watching Cooper talk with the bartender was like watching a magician; he had such a way with people that often fascinated me. No awkwardness. No hesitation. A simple social wizard who could strike up a conversation with damn near anyone under any circumstances.

The shortness of theirs, however, proved it wasn't working out the way he intended. A sullenness spread across his face as he sauntered to the booth with two glasses in tow.

“Couldn’t talk your way into the job?”

“Nah, they're all booked up. City bars usually are. They have their regular bartenders and don’t like to hire newbies they don’t know or that no one can vouch for. I knew it was a long shot, but a shot worth taking if it had worked out. Tips in the city are killer. Here, have a drink.”

He slid one of the small glasses over.

“What is it? You know I don’t drink.”

I tilted it to inspect its contents. A quaint bit of amber liquid coated the bottom.

“Just drink it, you need to relax. Trust me, I’ve got you tonight. I promised Rach I would look after you and I’d already promised myself that well before she asked, so don’t worry and throw it back.” He held his glass in the air. "Cheers, Martha!”

Shooting him a face for calling me Martha, I held my glass up. "Cheers, asshole!" We clinked our glasses and then I downed the contents before coughing violently. “What the fuck was that?”

I gripped the sides of the table and glanced over my shoulder to the floor as the burn remained, warming its way down through my body.

“Life.” He slammed his hand down on the table and threw his own drink back.

As I regained my composure, a burly man walked by our table and a flicker of light glinted off his watch, catching my eye. My eyes shot up.

“What the hell, I swear Rachel has ESP or something. I swear to the gods if I find out she has anything to do with this, I’ll kill her.”

Trying to make myself smaller in the booth, I cozied up to the darkness of the wall beside me.

“Who?” Cooper asked, scanning the crowd.

“The guy who just sat at the bar. He came into the antique shop looking for end tables and acted kind of rude. I introduced myself, and he didn’t give me his name; just rushed out like he couldn't stand to be near me or something.”

“That guy?” Cooper asked as he gestured toward the bar.

“Yes, now stop; don’t draw attention," I pleaded.

I hated confrontation, absolutely loathed it, so I wanted to act like I didn’t know who he was and move on with our night. Cooper, of course, had other plans.

“Okay, relax. But seriously, nobody disrespects a woman of mine and gets away with it.”

He stood from the booth, tugged on his shirt, and gave me a wink.

“What are you doing—no, Coop, stop it, come back here right now!”

I tried to get him to listen without making too much noise. Never have I wanted to die and melt into a booth more than at that very moment.

“Hey man, what’s up with you? You let a lady introduce herself and didn’t give her the kindness of returning the gesture?” Cooper asked as he reached the bar.

The man turned, studied Cooper, then glanced past him to see me. I scurried to hide myself with my arms, pretending to look at the wall beside me. Peeking through the crook of my elbow, I tried to hear what they were saying.

“I beg your pardon?”

He turned away from Cooper and took another sip of his drink, ignoring me completely.

“You heard me; why didn’t you introduce yourself to my friend the other day at the antique store?” Cooper pressed again.

“You’re mistaken, son. I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about. I wasn’t in an antique store the other day, so you'd best be on your way,” the man warned, not looking at Cooper again.

“Are you kidding—" Cooper stopped speaking as the man tilted his head towards him and stared. "S-so-sorry, man, sorry to bother you, I guess I was mistaken. Have a wonderful rest of your night, and enjoy your drink.”

“Are you fucking insane? That guy is huge!” I muttered as he took his seat across from me. His uneasiness struck me, and I shifted my tone. “What is it? What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s nothing,” Cooper said as his eyes darted to the man then back to the table. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I guess we can go ahead and head to Aster's. Let me shoot her a quick text. We can wait in the hall if she’s not done yet, but hopefully she is. You ready for this?” he asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Are you going to tell me what happened now—other than the asshole denying that the whole thing ever happened?”

“Just thought I saw something, but it was nothing. Sorry to embarrass you. Let’s go.”

Cooper grabbed me by the hand and rushed out the door. Whatever spooked him had done a good job.